Installment 20 [https://squirrel.dogphilosophy.net/Installment020.png]

Adventurers in the stories often got showered with attention when eating meals in public. This was usually presented as adulation and praise and occasional offers of marriage at luxurious feasts. Al didn't remember any of the stories where it was crowds of pub-goers pestering them with strange and inane questions, mostly about one of the party members, while they were trying to eat gruel.

Bote got through it easily by simply answering questions directed to them in their usual cryptic way until people gave up on trying to understand. The crowd hardly noticed when Bote finished their meal and excused themselves to find their room and begin their nightly religious meditations.

Gruntle got few questions as few people seemed comfortable getting near him, and it seemed there was some uncertainty over just how verbal he was. He didn't do much to settle that as the questions he did get were answered mostly with a few simple words or just vague gestures and grunting.

Al was polite, and tried to answer each question directly and accurately. "No, I have not seen him eat anybody" and variations of that were the most common theme. Luckily, Wikwocket ended up claiming the center of attention, and Al was able to fill his belly and make his way towards the stairs without attracting attention. He hesitated there, looking across the tavern. Wikwocket had an enthusiastic crowd fully engaged with a somewhat embellished story of her first meeting with Gruntle. Gruntle still had the attention of a few curious folks as well. Gruntle had claimed Bote and Al's bowls when they'd finished, and now sat at a table by himself, all three bowls filled. He'd also given up on the small spoon he'd been given and had taken the ladle from the pot. Al could barely hear a few members of Gruntle's audience quietly arguing over whether the fact that he was eating with a utensil meant he ate "like a civilized person", or if his gnawing and licking at the ladle with each scoop meant he ate "like a beast". Al wondered for a moment if he should force himself to stay, to make sure nothing went wrong. He finally decided that if Wikwocket was still there, too, things would probably work out. Besides, if he tried to watch Gruntle any time he feared something might go wrong he would never sleep again. He gave a small wave to get Wikwocket's attention so she'd know he was heading upstairs. She gave an enthusiastic thumbs-up and continued her story, pointing him out to the crowd.

"And that's when Al there fearlessly stepped forth, his mace held high to defend this helpless gnomish maiden's life with his very own!..."

"Mace?" heckled someone in the crowd, "I thought you said he was a wizard? Doesn't seem like a very wizardy sort of thing."

Al gave an exasperated sigh and stomped up the stairs and the sound of Wikwocket playfully arguing with the heckler in his defense faded away.

"...also a wizard, and he bravely served in the monarchy's army..."

Al reached the top of the stairs and headed down the hallway to the room the tavernkeeper had kept for them. Inside were four cots, each with a small nightstand with a candle on it, which Al could barely see from the lamplight in the hallway. Bote hadn't bothered to light any candles. Instead they just sat on the cot nearest the door, eyes closed and quietly praying in the dark. Al moved to the cot furthest from the door and set his pack on it. He allowed himself to light the candle with a bit of magic, reasoning that it was less wasteful than using up supplies from his fire-starting kit. He did walk back across the room to shut the door like a normal person, though. He returned to his cot and pulled Melissa's dissertation from his pack to settle in for a bit of educational reading before sleep.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

It was a surprisingly short time before the floorboards in the hallway creaked under a heavy weight, and the sound of sniffing around the edges of the door was heard. The door opened, leaving Gruntle just about filling the entire doorway. He crouched to fit through, squeezing into the room like a predator invading a helpless bunny's burrow. He looked expectantly to Al, perhaps too directly for Al's comfort.

Al decided it was worth providing a small reminder of who the shaman was around here. Gruntle tensed, crouching slightly, as Al made a quick gesture and spoke a few words of arcane speech, commanding the other three candles in the room to light one after another.

"Now that you're part of the party, you can claim any of the spots that are open when you get here. Get comfortable and get some rest, we'll probably be walking all day tomorrow. Please close the door behind you."

Then, having picked up a few tricks from watching Wikwocket as they traveled, he added an entirely unnecessary dramatic snap of his fingers and conjured a small shower of golden sparks. Gruntle relaxed after they faded out of existence, and he grunted once in acknowledgement. Al returned attention to his book as Gruntle closed the door and put his pack down on the bed in front of Al's. Then, it was Al's turn to tense up as Gruntle padded over to Al's cot. To Al's amazement, Gruntle then knelt down, and crawled underneath, pulling his limbs in tightly to curl up. Gruntle gave a quiet groan of relaxation.

Al leaned over to look under the cot. Two points of amber light shone back, reflecting the room's dim candlelight.

"What are you doing?" Al asked.

"Said I could have any open space." Gruntle answered.

"Why this one?"

"Fits good. Hidden. Dark. Safe. Good place to ambush from if someone comes to kill us."

Al disagreed with the sentiment, but couldn't think of any good counter-arguments. "Okay," he finally said, and sat back up to try to read some more. Helpfully, the beginning of Melissa's treatise seemed to be a simplified overview of the details contained in the rest of the work. Even as a summary, it was quite dense and full of citations to other works. Although Al generally enjoyed reading academic work - especially when grounded in actual field-research and practical applications - the fatigue of the day quickly caught up with him as he read. When Wikwocket finally arrived, cheerfully worn out from her performance, Al gave in and closed the book.

"What a fun audience!" Wikwocket exclaimed as she set down her own pack and flopped onto a cot. "I'm thoroughly worn out!"

"Well, everyone get plenty of sleep while we can. No telling what we'll find ourselves facing tomorrow."

"That'll be easy after everything we did today," said Wikwocket. She blew out the candle on the nightstand where Gruntle's pack rested, and then the one on her own.

"There will be danger and excitement as befits us, I am certain." Bote pronounced as they blew out their own candle and pulled the thin blanket over themself.

Al leaned over to look under his cot once more. The amber glow of Gruntle's eyes looked back at him. There was a single grunt of acknowledgement, and the eyes closed. Al sat back up, and blew out the last candle.

He lay there in the dark for a little while. He'd actually expected Gruntle to make some sort of bestial noise as he slept, or at least to snore, but he was still and quiet. Al could just barely hear the steady breathing if he listened carefully.

Al had already assumed the practical realities of actual adventuring would end up being different from what storybooks made the profession sound like, but the specific ways that things were turning out to be different from his expectations continued to be surprising.

He'd been through a lot of weirdness over the last few days. He was planning to expose himself and his party to the first intentional adventuring danger as early as the next day. And, on top of that...he was trying to sleep in an unfamiliar room where there was literally a monster under his bed.

Al wondered if he'd be able to sleep at all.